Speechless
by Idan
Summary: During a case Jane is injured and can't speak. Set late Season 5, right before Red Velvet Cupcakes.


**Author's Note:** Thanks to Grrarrggh for the prompt, even though it took me forever to do it!

* * *

Lisbon was tempted to hurdle the admitting desk and find what she needed herself, but she made herself wait for the alarmingly young man in scrubs to finish telling the person in front of her to have a seat before holding up her badge and saying, "You have a patient here, Patrick Jane. I need to see him. Immediately."

She thought she sounded very reasonable under the circumstances, but the attendant gave her a deer-in-the-headlights look that told her otherwise. "Uh," he said, as if he hadn't understood.

"Just tell me what room he's in."

He turned to his computer and, after what surely was not thirty minutes but certainly felt like it, said, "I don't have a room for him; he's still in the ER."

"Back there?" Lisbon nodded toward the doors nearby marked "Patients and Staff Only."

"You're not allowed back there, Miss—"

"Agent," Lisbon bit out, holding up her badge again before heading for the doors, which opened at her approach. Apparently she'd won the argument.

She'd find Jane on her own. The man caused a commotion wherever he went; he'd be inciting a riot or have a parade of admirers by now.

The emergency room was devoid of either riots or parades, however, and she was forced to peek into drawn curtains until she found Rigsby standing awkwardly behind one of them. "Boss!" he exclaimed, turning as she slid through the curtain.

"How is he?" She tried to peer around him, but there wasn't enough room to see more than feet under the sheet on the bed.

"I'm really sorry, Boss. I should have been faster, grabbed the guy before he landed the punch." Rigsby looked miserable.

"Tell me you at least got the suspect." From what little she knew, the whole situation had been a disaster even by Jane standards.

"Of course! Cho took him to booking. He's there now. It took both of us to pull him off Jane, so we thought he might be hyped up on something."

"So what's the damage?" Jane wasn't in danger of dying, obviously—at least not until she got her hands on him.

"Well, uh, we took out the glass in the door wrestling with the guy. But I don't think we broke anything else." Rigsby seemed cheered by the realization.

"Except Jane?" She folded her arms.

"Uh. Yeah. Dislocated jaw, they said. He won't be able to talk for a while but he should be fine. No teeth missing or anything." Rigsby was trying a little too hard to be positive.

Jane without his gift of gab? It was hard to imagine. A little ray of optimism shone into her dark mood as she wondered if that would keep him out of trouble. But no, common sense reasserted itself: he would merely be unable to yell for help when the inevitable trouble occurred. She would have to keep an eye on him every hour of the day.

Starting now. He was being entirely too quiet, and that meant trouble. Lisbon leaned around Rigsby and blinked in shock.

The figure on the bed was barely recognizable as Jane. Even the curls were unnaturally flat, tamed by the wide bandage wrapping around his head and under his chin to keep his jaw in place. "Oh my God!" She couldn't help gasping, looking at his swollen face, edged in a ghastly yellow that foretold some fierce bruises to come.

"Yeah," Rigsby said awkwardly. "It was, uh, he got hit hard."

"How long has he been out?" What if the damage went deeper than she could see? The thought chilled her.

"Oh, they had to give him some muscle relaxants and local anesthetic to reset his jaw. I guess it was enough to wipe him out. He should come around anytime, they said," Rigsby assured her.

Lisbon took a moment to picture the scene. Jane was uncooperative with doctors at the best of times, but maybe he had been in enough pain to let them help him. "Is it safe for him to stay here?"

Rigsby chuckled. "Yeah, he was trying to talk but nobody could understand him. If looks could kill, this would be a crime scene for sure."

His phone buzzed, and he tried to sneak a peek at it without being obvious. "You okay here, Boss? I, uh, should go help Cho."

Cho rarely needed help, but Rigsby couldn't be any more use here. Jane was her problem now. "Okay. I'll stay here for a while. Keep me posted."

"Sure. And hey, tell Jane I'm sorry I wasn't faster. I don't think he heard me, before." Rigsby paused for a moment, but when she didn't reply, he ducked through the curtain and was gone.

Lisbon was left to contemplate the damage. Jane's face would heal; they would doubtless close the case, though likely at the expense of complaint paperwork and furious recriminations from the DA's office; nobody else had gotten hurt. It could have been worse. Much worse.

But why did the man have to choose the riskiest option, time after time? She was sure the worry he caused was shortening her life. By now she understood that the guilt he felt over his family's deaths made him careless of his safety, as if he deserved to get punched occasionally. But she wished he would spare a thought for the people around him.

Looking at him lying still in the hospital bed brought back too many bad memories of Jane getting hurt on cases: being blinded in an explosion, nearly drowning at the hands of a murderer hiding in a pond, injured in a car crash during Lorelei's escape. Though she still had her suspicions about that last one being self-inflicted.

The toxic mix of anger and hurt that any thought of Lorelei provoked stopped her train of thought for a moment, but it was hard to stay angry with him when he was so vulnerable. Hard, but not impossible.

A faint moan drew her attention back to the man in the bed. "Jane?"

He grunted a little, blinking, and then one arm came up to his face, nearly hitting her in the process.

"Jane, it's okay. Don't try to talk," she said softly. "They had to set your jaw. It's just a bandage."

He focused on her and relaxed, his arm dropping to rest his hand on her wrist. She recognized his old trick of feeling her pulse immediately, but fortunately she didn't need to do anything but tell the truth. "I haven't seen your doctor yet, but Rigsby said your jaw was dislocated. You won't be able to use it for a while."

His grip on her wrist changed, as if he were afraid she'd leave. Not even Jane could conceal his alarm at being deprived of his voice, one of his greatest assets.

"On the up side," she said, trying to keep her tone light, "this will be the last time I'll have to worry about you inciting someone to punch you for a while. Unless you're fluent in sign language?"

He shook his head very carefully. With his free hand, he made a motion like writing.

"And no way am I giving you a chalkboard to harass suspects with," she replied.

He frowned at her, frustration drawing his eyebrows together. Then he reached out to tap her blazer pocket.

"Oh. You mean now."

He gave her a "no shit" look she found funny, but she tried not to let him see it as she drew out the small pad she used to take notes and handed it to him along with a pen.

_When can I get out of here?_ he wrote.

"I don't know if they'll admit you. Maybe in a little while," she replied. Then she frowned. "I don't know if you should be by yourself if you can't communicate."

_Text._

"I guess so."

_Why Lisbon, are you inviting me to stay with you?_ He grinned as he showed her the paper.

She sighed. "You're going to be just as annoying without saying a word, aren't you? Maybe I'll send you to stay with Cho."

_Rigsby. He feels guilty enough to do it._

"You mean he'd do everything you tell him without question. Nice try."

_Guess you're stuck with me then._

"Nothing new there." She rolled her eyes at him and was rewarded by a twinkle in his.

"Ah, good. I see our patient is in a better mood," a striking young man in a white coat said as he came into the room.

Jane immediately glowered at him, but Lisbon said, "I'm Agent Teresa Lisbon, CBI, his boss."

Jane made a grumbly sound that ended in a "pfft." The content was unintelligible but the meaning was unmistakeable.

"Nice to meet you, Agent Lisbon." The doctor gave a charming smile as he extended his hand. "I'm Doctor Simmons, but please call me Ted."

Lisbon smiled back. "Thanks for not wiring his jaw shut. He won't need that, will he?"

"Tempting, but no," Ted chuckled. "It was a minor fracture, and now that we've put everything back where it's supposed to be, he just needs to keep the bandage on, not use his jaw much, and take anti-inflammatory painkillers as needed. By the look of his face, it'll be a while."

Lisbon sighed in relief. "So you're not admitting him?"

"No need. He'll have to keep his jaw immobilized for four to eight weeks. If he doesn't make it worse, I'm guessing more toward the four-week mark." Ted glanced at Jane, who was still sulking. "I have to ask: what does the other guy look like?"

"I haven't seen him yet," Lisbon said, though she bet Rigsby had used a little unnecessary force to assuage his guilt at letting Jane get beat up. She couldn't blame him, but she didn't want to know. "However, I have no doubt that Jane's mouth got him into trouble, so it will be nice to have it shut for a change."

Jane shot her a wounded look, then reached for her hand, sliding his fingers through hers. She was so surprised she didn't think to pull away.

Ted continued, "Soft, mushy foods are best. Nothing too hot or cold; keep it lukewarm."

Jane made a noise like a wounded animal, and she knew he was thinking of his beloved hot tea. "Room temperature mashed potatoes. Got it," she said. Then she looked at Jane again. "It could have been worse," she reminded him.

He rolled his eyes. She was sure he was going to subvert his doctor's orders at every turn, but that was no surprise.

Turning back to Ted, she asked, "So he's free to go?"

"Sure. Here's my card; feel free to call me if you have any questions. He should see his primary care doctor as soon as possible, too."

Yeah, like that was going to happen, she thought as she pocketed the card. "Great. Thanks."

"They have his discharge paperwork at the front desk. Good luck!" He grinned at her as he left.

Discharge instructions, right. Like that would do her any good. He hadn't exactly followed them when he'd lost his sight, after all. Or, to her knowledge, any other time.

Jane squeezing her hand caught her attention. He left go of her and made a shoo-ing gesture toward the curtain. Confused, she folded her arms and glared at him, sure that whatever he had in mind, she wasn't going to like it.

With an impatient look, he pointed to his clothes, folded on a nearby chair.

"Oh. You need to get dressed. I'll be right outside. Do not try to sneak past me!"

He gave her a big grin, then winced.

She slipped through the curtain before he could do himself any more damage, taking her phone out of her pocket as it buzzed with a text. The suspect who'd hit Jane had confessed after being interviewed by Cho. She was grateful for the good news. With the case closed, she could focus on keeping Jane out of trouble.

mmm

Jane fell asleep in the car almost as soon as they left the parking lot, resting his battered head against the window. By now she knew when he was faking or just plain exhausted, and this was definitely the latter. Yes, she was doing the right thing, though she found the idea of Jane wandering her house a little nerve wracking. When he felt well enough to start going through her things, that would be the sign that she should kick him out.

Deciding on that made her feel better, and when they arrived, she was able to shake him awake with more sympathy than impatience. "Jane. Come on, we're here."

He groaned, but opened his eyes and sat up. She got out of the car and went to see if he needed help, but he was on his feet before she could get to him. He followed her to her door and stood patiently while she unlocked it, then went straight to her couch and settled himself while she locked up behind them.

"Do you want anything?"

He was showing every sign of going back to sleep, but he held up his hands in a "T" shape.

"Tea. Got it." She went into the kitchen, poured some water into a mug and put it in the microwave, then dug out the tea bags from the back of the cupboard and sniffed her milk to make sure it was still good. She was sure it wouldn't be up to Jane's normal standards, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Mindful of the doctor's instructions, she dropped a couple of ice cubes into the finished product, then carried it to the living room. Jane was sitting up, looking eagerly at the mug. But on his first sip, he gave her a pained look.

"As long as you're here, you're following doctor's orders," she informed him. "I take it you'd prefer to stay out here on the couch? I could sleep out here if you'd be more comfortable in a bed."

He shook his head carefully, and she didn't bother to argue. "I don't think I have anything for dinner. I could order in. Chinese maybe? You probably can't chew pizza but maybe some fried rice would be okay, or egg drop soup?"

He shrugged, then nodded.

Once she'd finished ordering, Jane handed her the TV remote, for which she was grateful. The silence was unnerving. She found that she kept glancing over at him to make sure he hadn't snuck off. Sometimes he crinkled his eyes at her as if smiling without actually moving his mouth; other times he gave her a look that plainly said, "Really?"

She was grateful they had the night off. There would be no case to tempt him to get into trouble, and if one came up tomorrow, she'd make sure he had no chance to get into the field. She'd learned her lesson when he was blind. Though come to think of it, forcing him to stay at the office hadn't turned out so well that time.

Damn it. The man probably needed protective custody and a safe house, if only he'd comply with either.

She settled on a channel showing a basketball game, ignoring Jane's long sigh.

mmm

The night was unexpectedly peaceful. She heard Jane get up once in the night and open the refrigerator, probably searching for a drink to take his medicine with. But he went right back to bed, or rather, couch.

She'd turned off her alarm and texted Cho that she was taking a leave day, intending to keep Jane home and out of trouble for as long as possible. But when she woke up, it was to the smell of coffee and eggs. And where had he found bacon?

"Where did you get that?" She demanded as she went into the kitchen.

Jane pointed to the freezer. Oh, yeah. She vaguely remembered doing an ambitious grocery shop the last time she'd been suspended. Some of that had ended up in the freezer. And she usually had eggs, because she could hard boil a bunch on her day off and then have a handy protein source when she was too busy or tired to eat a whole meal.

Jane handed her a mug of coffee, and she took a sip as he divided the scrambled eggs between 2 plates then carried them to the table, where he'd cleared a space between the stacks of old mail and semi-folded laundry.

As they sat down, she said, "If you want to make a list, I can head to the grocery store so we don't have to eat takeout again."

He reached for a nearby pad of paper, but instead of writing a list, he wrote, _Work_?

"Aren't you always telling me to take a day off once in a while? Today seems good."

_I'm fine to work_, he wrote. Seeing she wasn't convinced, he added, _You can't expect me to sit around while you watch sports all day_.

"Fine. We'll watch what you want," she said. "Or I could have Cho bring whatever you've been reading lately."

He shook his head. _CBI_, he wrote, tapping the paper with the pen to emphasize his point.

"We don't even have a case," she pointed out. "Come on, Jane. We could go for a drive, have a picnic somewhere. You'd enjoy that, wouldn't you?"

He was tempted, she could see. But then he wrote, _Can't eat picnic food, remember_?

"I could mash up some potato salad. Or macaroni salad, maybe? I bet you could eat watermelon in small pieces. Or I could get some applesauce."

_Really don't want to do that closed case paperwork, hm?_

"Cho did it last night," she said. "But if you'd rather go to the office, fine. I can get a head start on my budget numbers for next year. You can hide in your attic and obsess all you want."

That last part came out more bitterly than she'd intended, but she couldn't help thinking that just a couple of years ago, he would have been the one trying to coax her into a day off instead of the other way around. She wished she could go back in time and tell her younger self to better appreciate Jane's playfulness, because it was all going to end with a long stint in Vegas and an even deeper obsession with Red John that demonstrated with painful clarity that she wasn't among his priorities.

She hadn't realized she was looking down until she felt Jane's finger under her chin, lifting her face back into his view. She resisted looking at him until his thumb brushed her cheek, startling her into returning his gaze. Its intensity nearly took her breath away. For an instant it was like she was catapulted into the past, when she had believed she knew the real man beneath the mask, before Vegas and Lorelei had shattered that illusion.

The man she could see now was deeply sorry. But he was also, she knew, a brilliant liar.

Jane let out a sigh, his shoulders drooping as he let his hand fall to his side. Then he picked up the pad of paper again and wrote, _A picnic sounds nice._

"Really?" She was astonished, then suspicious.

_Everyone needs a break. Even me_. He gave her a hopeful smile.

Lisbon hesitated, then decided to take yes for an answer. "Okay. We'll swing by the store and pick up some food. You pick the place."

Jane nodded, then carefully spooned some runny scrambled eggs into his mouth, followed by a sip of tea. At least none of it was steaming hot, she noted, taking a bite of her less runny eggs. They were, of course, delicious.

mmm

Jane had a place in mind, far enough outside town that they were unlikely to be disturbed or, more disturbingly, surveilled. It was a small park beside a pond ringed with trees. They settled in the shade of one and ate their picnic lunch in companionable silence.

The quiet was strange at first, then relaxing. Lisbon closed all the containers after they finished eating, while Jane took his jacket off and made a small pillow, lying back as if intending to enjoy a nap.

"Hey," she said. "No sleeping. I get enough of watching you sleep at work."

Jane gave a small grin and made an "after you" gesture with one hand. She sighed, realizing that she was going to have to supply the conversation.

"We never really went on picnics, growing up," she began. "There was a park near the lake that we'd go to for big family events, like a cousin's christening. But that had grills and picnic tables, not like this. I guess you ate outside all the time though."

He nodded, and she continued, "Is that where you got your love of nature? Being outside so much? I was outside a lot as a kid, but mostly playing sports or watching my brothers play. Not really relaxing. Not that relaxing was the goal. I mean, I'm not sure my brothers knew the meaning of the word. So it's not something I thought about."

She looked down at Jane, who showed every sign of listening intently. "I feel like I'm talking to myself," she complained.

He smiled and patted her hand, then gestured for her to continue. Lisbon hesitated, uncomfortable doing all the talking, particularly about herself. Usually it was Jane who supplied most of the small talk to pass the time.

She grinned as it suddenly occurred to her she had him as a captive audience, unable to deflect or run away no matter what she chose to talk about. And there were so many things she'd wanted to say to him but never found the time. Or the courage.

She took a deep breath. "You know, that was a shitty thing you did, running off to Vegas without telling me. I mean, that really was a betrayal, Jane."

He blinked, taken aback by the abrupt change of subject and tone.

"And yes, you came back, but only because you needed help with your plan. And then when it all went to hell, you didn't warn me about Lorelei and ignored all my advice. You know, I should have broken your jaw myself."

He reached for her hand again and pressed it against his lips in what she supposed was an apology.

"Don't think you can charm your way out of this. The very least you owe me is a fair hearing, Jane."

He nodded, looking like a naughty puppy unsure of his punishment. Even with his bruised and swollen face, that look was still distracting, but she turned away and took a deep breath.

"That hurt. I know you've always said nothing matters to you more than Red John, but you could at least treat the rest of us with a little consideration. We want to help you, you know. God, how can you not realize that? We almost lost our jobs because we helped you and you ended up shooting a man in cold blood. What if he hadn't been a pervert, huh? We'd all be out on the street and you'd be no closer to finding Red John. And we went along with your crazy plan in Vegas even though we were all mad at you. What's it going to take for you to trust us, Jane?"

Jane made a little grumble of protest and reached into his vest pocket for her notepad, scribbling furiously before shoving it into her hand.

_I do trust you, Lisbon. You're the only one I trust._

"Oh, bullshit, Jane. If you trusted me, you'd tell me things. But no, you keep sneaking around and lying, like letting Lorelei escape. Hell, like pretending she kidnapped you in the first place, instead of the other way around!"

He tried to take the notepad back, but she slapped his hand with it. "And don't sell me that crap about deniability. I catch hell for your crazy stunts whether or not I know about them in advance. It doesn't make a damn bit of difference, except you'd be safer if I didn't have to piece your crazy plans together in time to pull you out of whatever mess you've made. One of these days I'm going to guess wrong, or be too slow, and you'll end up dead. Did that ever occur to you?"

He tapped his finger on the paper where he'd written that he trusted her.

"Everybody screws up, Jane. I'm only human. How do you think I'll feel if you get yourself killed because I wasn't there in time? Is that how you're planning to repay me for everything I've done for you over the years? Leave me in your version of hell?"

He shook his head, then winced. She refused to feel sorry for him.

"You want to make it up to me, Jane? Then stop with the secrets. Tell me what you're planning. Let me help you so you don't get yourself killed."

He tugged on the notepad again, and this time she let him take it.

_Some secrets are dangerous_, he wrote.

Lisbon grabbed the notepad back and hit him over the head with it, careful not to touch his bandage. "I'm a cop, dammit. My whole life is dangerous. Just being on the Red John case is dangerous. Your stupid little secrets won't put me in more danger."

She let him have the pad back, knowing there was no response he could make that she would accept. He seemed to realize it, too, hesitating and tapping the pen on the paper for a few seconds before writing and then handing the pad back to her.

_I may not be able to protect you. But I will always try. That's the only promise I can make you, Lisbon. That said, I will make a better effort to keep the secrecy to a minimum and communicate better. Though that's very difficult when I'm reduced to writing on this tiny pad that you keep taking away from me._

Lisbon huffed as she read the note, then ripped the paper out of the pad and tucked it into her pocket. "Okay, now I have it in writing. The next time you're being a secretive jackass, I'm going to show this to you."

He gestured for her to give him the notepad back, then wrote: _And I am sorry for hurting you, more than I can express. It was never my intention._

"News flash, Jane: it hurts when people take you for granted," she grumbled, reading over his shoulder.

_I have never taken you for granted. Never._

"Oh yes you have. You came back from Vegas with a plan that totally depended on my willingness to help you when you had no right to expect it. You just figured you could talk me into it."

He shook his head. _I knew you would help because I know you. Because I know how much you want justice for all his victims. Because no matter how angry you were, you know my plans usually work. I knew you would take the risk because finding him was more important than all the unpleasant things that would happen if we failed. It wasn't about me. It was bigger than that._

Lisbon sighed. "That still doesn't explain why you didn't warn me about Lorelei."

_I needed her to feel like she'd won, like she was driving a wedge between us. That was part of her assignment, Lisbon. Red John knows I'm stronger with your support. If he could remove that, he'd have a better chance of turning me, or killing me, or whatever he wants_.

"You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

_If you don't want me to answer, why do you ask?_ He smiled a little.

"Okay, let's try this." There was something about communicating via paper that made him seem more open. Maybe she could find the answer to the question that had been bothering her all along. "Why did you pretend to forget that thing you said before you shot me?"

_It was hardly the time to discuss emotional issues_, he wrote. _But of course I didn't forget. I didn't mean to say it, either. But that doesn't mean it wasn't true_.

"Could you put any more negatives into that sentence?" she grumbled, parsing the grammar.

_I'm not as brave as you. But you are right: I've treated you badly. You deserve answers. I'll be as honest as I can stand._

She looked at him, trying to gauge his truthfulness. There was an odd glint in his eye, she thought. It looked almost hopeful.

Suddenly she wondered how much honesty she could stand.

_Or_, he wrote, _we could sit here and you could tell me what shapes you see in the clouds._

She scowled, taking another deep breath. "Sure. That one there? It looks like a gun. And look, over there is an ax."

_Point taken_, he wrote. _Okay. Painful personal conversations rather than a pleasant, dreamy afternoon on a beautiful day_.

"We're not guaranteed tomorrow, Jane. And I'm sick of trying to figure out what the hell is going on in your head. I want to know before I die. And that could be pretty soon, given that Red John wanted my head in a box."

He grimaced. _I realize all that. And I'm doing everything I can to keep you alive. Which is why I'm trying to avoid the conversation you want to have._

"Nobody could possibly overhear us way out here, Jane." She gestured to the wide open park. The nearest cover was out of range of even professional surveillance equipment, and the sky was clear.

_It's not about being overheard. If I answer the question you want to ask me, it will change your behavior. He'll know with one glance at you._

"Oh, so now I can't keep a secret?"

_An emotionally fraught secret that will change your view of one of the closest relationships you currently have? Few could._

"It's just an excuse, Jane. You're the one who can't stand the thought of our relationship changing, aren't you? Admit it: you enjoy stringing me along, making me wonder."

_I have never enjoyed causing you pain._

"Then prove it."

He sighed, tapping the pen against the paper again before writing. _So you're saying your behavior wouldn't change if I told you that your hopes are in vain, that I don't believe I could ever return the romantic feelings you have for me_?

As she read the words, she felt a sharp pain in her chest, possibly because she had stopped breathing. She was on her feet before she was conscious of the impulse to stand, and she took a step away, only to find Jane's hand wrapped firmly around her wrist. When a sharp tug failed to loosen his grip, she focused on breathing, not wanting him to hear her distress.

Jane tugged, trying to pull her around to face him, but she resisted even as he got to his feet. There was no way she was going to let him see her expression until she pulled herself together. Damn him anyway. Why did he have to pretend to care about her, when there was no room inside him for anything but vengeance? She would never be anything except a means to an end, a bit player in the stupid grand tragedy he and Red John were hell bent on acting out. She was practically invisible.

Wait.

Why should Red John give a damn if Jane upset her?

She spun around, pushing Jane off balance and forcing him to take a step back. Caught off guard, he couldn't hide his distress, confirming her hunch.

"You son of a bitch!" she yelled.

Jane frowned in confusion.

"How dare you hurt me just to prove a point!" She was tempted to kick him, but he took another step back before she could turn the thought into action. "You're a sorry excuse for a human being, you know that?"

Jane nodded slowly, spreading his hands as if surrendering.

Lisbon took a deep breath, her fury starting to evaporate as the implications of her realization set in. Jane had made his point, but typically, he'd done it with misdirection. The truth must be the opposite of what he'd written, because Red John wouldn't care about her misery, but he would care if she were suddenly happy. Because that would mean Jane was happy, and the killer would probably not stand for that. Not for long, anyway.

"So let me get this straight. You lied to me just now because you're afraid if you told me the truth, I'd give it away waltzing through the halls of the CBI humming love songs and making gooey eyes at you?"

His mouth twitched, as if trying to picture her doing that.

"You really are an idiot." She folded her arms and glared at him.

Now that her initial rush of emotion had faded, she could see that despite trying, Jane was not perfectly composed. There was something in his eyes that looked like fear. She frowned. "You know I'm a professional, right? That I keep my personal life out of the office. Why would you think that would suddenly change? Is your ego really that out of control?"

He shrugged, still looking at her like he was afraid she was going to pull her gun. It was annoying; couldn't he tell she was over the impulse to punch him?

At least for the moment.

"Nothing changes, Jane. I'm not an idiot."

Jane stared at her as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd heard. She took a moment to enjoy having stunned him. He'd probably be speechless even if he weren't capable of speaking. It felt like an achievement.

"I just wanted to know."

His expression changed suddenly, all his wariness dropping away, leaving a weary sadness behind. He looked...defeated.

Lisbon sighed. Suddenly her victory seemed hollow. "Okay. Well, I guess we'd better pack up our trash and head home."

She took two steps forward, sidestepping Jane and bending to pick up their containers and put them back in the reusable grocery bag Jane had insisted on. Painfully aware of Jane standing behind her, presumably in shock from being tricked into admitting his feelings, she resolutely swallowed down the wild swirl of her own feelings. She wasn't sure if she was thrilled or terrified or both, but she was definitely sick to her stomach. What if she couldn't pretend well enough? What if Jane couldn't? What had she just done?

She straightened, took a deep breath, and turned back to Jane, braced for whatever she might see in his face. But she barely caught a glimpse before she was engulfed in a hug.

He'd hugged her before, of course, but this one lacked any trace of glee at her discomfort or the desperation of the hug before he'd shot her. There was a gentleness to it she'd never noticed before, his fingertips moving softly against her back in a soothing motion.

Slowly, she lifted her arms and slid them around his waist, returning the hug. The feelings she'd been trying to ignore washed through her, and she squeezed her eyes shut to savor this moment where they both knew they loved each other.

It didn't change anything—Jane was still going to do anything he could to get his revenge regardless of what she thought about his actions. She knew that. She wasn't sure why she'd wanted to know his feelings so badly. But having the question answered did make her feel better. It wasn't that he wouldn't trick her or use her anymore, but at least she would know she wasn't a complete sucker being coldly manipulated by someone who didn't care about her. She wasn't sure why that made a difference, but it did.

Maybe, if they were lucky, someday she'd get to hear him say it.


End file.
